


Patience Leads, Heart Follows

by SweetSorcery



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Clothed Sex, Dancing, First Time, Flirting, Frottage, Future Fic, Humor, M/M, Seduction, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-18
Updated: 2011-08-18
Packaged: 2017-10-22 19:35:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSorcery/pseuds/SweetSorcery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All good things come to those who wait. And Lucius has the patience of a saint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patience Leads, Heart Follows

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All canon referred to within belongs to J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, Warner Bros. Inc., and possibly others. Non-canon bits were created for non-profit, non-infringement entertainment.
> 
> Archiving: Absolutely nowhere please, not even in translated form.
> 
> Author's Notes: This was written in August 2007.  
> (Please note that I may lock my explicit stories to registered users only, once they've been up for a bit.)

If there was one thing Harry hated more than being forced to attend Ministry functions - they insisted on making him the guest of honour every bloody time - it was having to dance while he was there.

And not just to dance, which would have been bad enough, but to make inane chitchat with insipid hero worshipping women who clung to him like limpets. They were invariably being too familiar, paying him ridiculous compliments and generally drooling all over him. And some variation of the following would slip into the conversation sooner rather than later: "I can't believe I'm dancing with the man who defeated the Dark Lord! My friends will be so envious!" They all spoke in exclamations. And they all called him Harry, without so much as a by-your-leave, as if they’d been friends for years. Merlin, but he hated the lot of them. There were times when he wished Voldemort back from the dead, just so he could say, "Oops, got it wrong. Better find yourselves another hero."

He wasn't so lucky. Every wizard, witch and kneazle knew he'd done away with the bastard two years after leaving Hogwarts. But most chose to ignore that he would have almost certainly failed without the entire Order of the Phoenix at his back, not to mention a number of incredibly courageous men infiltrating Voldemort's Inner Circle. Snape had been known to him as a spy for some time, but some had been top secret until the very last - like Lucius Malfoy. That had been _quite_ a surprise, and not only to Harry.

He smiled, still remembering Draco's reaction when his father had shown up for his Order of Merlin, Second Class. The little ferret had actually fainted right there, to his father's great embarrassment and Harry's amusement. Narcissa Malfoy's loyalties had been firmly on the death eating side, and as such, she had perished along with her friends a year ago; the remaining Malfoys seemed to get along perfectly well without her, and were certainly easier to get along _with_ , once all the subterfuge had ended.

Harry was quite sure Lucius Malfoy would be present at tonight's ball. He seemed to be forced to attend these things as well and, unlike Snape, didn't have the disposition to simply refuse. Or maybe he liked all the fuss. Spy or not, redeemed or not, he was still a pureblood ponce of the highest order. Though a surprisingly nice one, as it had turned out.

Harry's thoughts were disrupted by a petite platinum blonde attaching herself to his arm. He cringed when she chirped much too close to his ear, "I finally managed to catch you alone, Harry! You simply _must_ dance with me! It's a polka!"

Harry groaned. A fricking polka, no less! Could there be a more attention-getting way of making a fool of oneself? He put on his blandest smile. "I would love to, but I'm afraid I'm a terrible dancer. I'd only embarrass you."

The silly thing giggled and slapped at his forearm as if he'd made a great joke. "Oh, what nonsense! You defeated the Dark Lord, Harry! A little dance couldn't possibly worry you!"

Harry stared at her in disbelief, but before he could point out the ridiculous non sequiteur, she was already dragging him along behind her as if he was an unruly child. Resigned, he decided she deserved what she was about to get; after all, he had given her fair warning. They squeezed themselves onto the madcap dance floor, and Harry started counting down the seconds until he got his legs muddled up to land in a heap at some pinched Ministry official's feet.

Surprisingly, he managed for almost a minute, but the first major spin tripped him up when another couple bumped none too gently into them. Staying on his feet was the best Harry could hope to do, and he was in no state to keep track of his dance partner, had he cared to try.

"Well, well, who have we here?" drawled a deep voice. Its owner had caught Harry out of midair and was pressing him to his broad chest a moment later.

Harry blinked as he was being swept up and whirled away. Right hair colour, but definitely not the right voice or build. "Mr Malfoy!" he fairly squeaked.

"Good evening, Mr Potter." Lucius Malfoy chuckled when he realized a huffing young woman had ended up with his own dance partner. "I seem to have inadvertently cut in on your young lady."

"Er… that's not my… my anything," Harry puffed, trying to keep up. "I don’t know her from Adam." Harry clung to the man's shoulder and hand when he was turned in the opposite direction, desperately glad that Malfoy was a great deal sturdier than the girl he'd been dancing with, or he knew he would have been flung right across the room.

"Adam, Mr Potter? I assume… your date?" Malfoy asked, brow furrowed as he looked around for the elusive Adam. His long mane of blond hair was flying around his head as if they were on a carousel.

Harry chuckled at the sight. "It's just a muggle saying."

"Ah. I see." Malfoy was clearly unconcerned at being ignorant of a muggle expression. In fact, he looked amused.

Harry decided it was only fair to explain further. "It means I would barely recognise her if I saw her again." The pressure from a warm palm at his side sent Harry into another turn, and he swung around before once more finding himself steadied by Lucius Malfoy's sure hold on him.

"How unflattering for the young lady."

"Well, she forced herself on me. It's not my fault," Harry huffed somewhat petulantly.

Malfoy gave a low chuckle that sent a bang of hair fluttering past Harry's temple.

Harry shivered, averting his face and finding more pairs of eyes on them than not. "Um… Mr Malfoy?"

"Yes, Mr Potter?"

"People are staring at us," Harry pointed out, trying to pull away and upsetting their rhythm in the process. "I don't think wizards are meant to dance together."

Lucius raised an amused brow and tightened his hold rather than releasing Harry. "People are staring at us, Mr Potter, because I am a former death eater, dancing with the saviour of the wizarding world. I doubt they would care if I were a house elf and you a blast-ended screwt."

Harry gaped up at the man and lost his footing for a moment, but Malfoy adroitly got him back into the flow of things. Words quite failed him.

"Though perhaps you yourself are uncomfortable dancing with a man?" Malfoy sought to clarify.

"No!" Harry hurried to say, then ducked his head, barely avoiding knocking the man in the chin on the next hop. He inwardly cursed himself for being in quite that much of a hurry to deny it. "No, I don't really care. I was just… I don't know how--"

"All these years, and you still don't know all the ways of the wizarding world?" The words were mocking, but the tone indulgent. "Perhaps someone should tutor you?"

Harry scoffed. "Why do I find it hard to believe that you'd make a good tutor?"

Malfoy spun him into a particularly fast turn, and Harry hung on for dear life. "I never would have dared to offer my own services, but if you should ask nicely…"

Snorting, Harry shook his head. "Not likely."

Malfoy sighed dramatically. "Ah. A pity." When Harry broke into a smile, he mirrored it.

And so it went. Half-hearted insults and even less half-hearted peace offerings were exchanged, and it came as something of a surprise to Harry when he suddenly realised the music had stopped.

Lucius Malfoy released him very slowly and took a step back, looking completely unruffled by the exhaustion. "Mr Potter. It has been a pleasure." He bowed and, after a quick smile, left Harry at the edge of the dance floor.

Harry wondered whether there was a draft from somewhere; he felt strangely chilly all of a sudden.

* * *

Where there was one Ministry ball, the next one was never far off. Perhaps it was due to a lingering sense of victory in the wizarding world, but Harry thought it more likely that the ministry employees were desperate for any diversion to liven up for their dull existence. Either way, Harry was, of course, expected to attend once again.

He did so with less reluctance than on previous occasions, though he put that down to getting used to his role as a war relic. When he arrived, his eyes scanned the room to assess whether there was anyone who was likely to nag him about an interview or, worse yet, an autograph. He groaned when a group of three witches approached him, giggling and blushing and clearly out to ruin his evening.

Just before they reached him, he felt a firm grip on his arm and was spun around. Lucius Malfoy smirked down at him, placing a goblet of champagne in his hands as if he'd been waiting right there with it. "If you'll forgive me… you looked in need of rescuing."

Unable to deny it, Harry smiled crookedly. "Am I that obvious?" He took a sip.

"Somewhat." Malfoy looked over Harry's shoulder, and there was an evil glint in his eyes. "Your throng of admirers is not happy with me right now, I fear."

Harry laughed. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all." Malfoy smiled. "But you know, I cannot help but wonder why three young ladies should have such a disturbing effect on you. Especially if I'm the only readily available alternative."

"You're not that bad," Harry muttered uncomfortably, blushing when Malfoy smirked. "At least you won't want my autograph."

Lucius Malfoy gasped and pressed his hand to his chest. "Why, Mr Potter, had I known it was available!" When Harry chuckled at this, he tilted his head and gave Harry a searching look. "Are you offering?"

"What?" Harry muttered stupidly.

"An autograph by your own esteemed self, of course."

"Oh, right. No, I wasn't." Harry took another sip, grinning around the rim of the goblet but not quite able to meet those eyes sparkling with amusement.

Malfoy was not finished poking fun at him yet, it seemed. "I'd be more than willing to agree to an exchange, of course," the man declared cheerfully. "I realise my signature is not quite the trophy yours would be, but I can assure you, it would be presented to you on a most fetching photograph."

Harry snorted a good amount of champagne making its way straight up his nose and behind his eyeballs - which promptly began watering. He was spluttering and coughing, his head on fire.

"Oh, dear. I am sorry," Malfoy muttered, not at all sounding it. He took away Harry's goblet - which was about to be upended all over the marble floor, then reached around him to slap him between his shoulder blades. "I seem to have said something terribly outrageous," he said, thumping cheerfully.

Harry raised a hand. "No, I… okay, okay." Harry tried to brush Malfoy's arm away, coughing and flushed and trying hard to sink into the ground when he became aware of the many curious eyes on them. "I'm fine now, you can stop."

Malfoy did so immediately, but the hand on Harry's upper back didn't go anywhere. "Well, while we're in this position… Would you care to dance?"

Harry blinked. "What, you mean intentionally?" He felt rather warm, blaming it on the champagne currently filling his entire head.

"I rarely dance by accident." Malfoy smiled. "But if you're referring to that _other_ occasion, I do prefer to ask my dance partner directly, rather than to leave things to chance."

Harry attempted to work out what Malfoy was actually telling him, but clearly, champagne inhaled was more potent than champagne sipped. He nodded and allowed Malfoy to lead him to the centre of the dance floor, resolving to work it out later. It was odd how easily they fell into step, considering Harry had two left feet and Lucius Malfoy seemed to be an expert, but they danced as if they'd been practising between the last ball and this one.

"I really must chide Draco when I get home," Lucius Malfoy said a couple of minutes into the song. "He used to mock your dancing mercilessly. Clearly, my son was frolicking in the rose bushes while you took to the floor."

Harry snorted. "No, he was quite right. I'm useless at dancing."

"Not with me." Lucius Malfoy gave him a penetrating look. "You and I dance beautifully together."

Harry wanted to avert his gaze, but didn't quite manage it; Malfoy's eyes were rather compelling at close range. "If you say so," he muttered self-consciously.

"Oh, I do." Malfoy pulled him closer, and Harry squeaked a little in surprise. "Forgive me. I'm merely adjusting our positions for this dance," Malfoy explained reasonably.

"Right. Okay." Harry cleared his throat, going along with that as he was certainly no expert. It was bad enough he hadn't even noticed the song changing to something slow and ridiculously romantic. He was suddenly keenly aware of just how different it was to dance with Lucius Malfoy rather than the handful of girls he'd danced with in the past. For one thing, he was being led, which made a nice change. He had to look up to meet his partner's eyes, the shoulder under his hand was broad and solid - like the chest brushing his own - while the hand on his back felt strong enough to crush his ribs. He inhaled sharply.

"Are you well, Mr Potter? You look flushed."

"I'm fine," Harry croaked, looking away over his shoulder. "They're staring again," he muttered, desperate for a subject change from his state of flushed-ness.

"I'm not surprised." Malfoy actually seemed pleased by the attention they were attracting. When Harry looked confused, he smirked. "We do make an extraordinarily handsome pair, you and I."

Harry misplaced his next step on top of Malfoy's fine leather boot, but Lucius Malfoy simply turned him and got them back into the swing of things. "Sorry!" He cringed.

"Quite all right. Feel free to stand on my feet anytime you wish." He winked at Harry, who actually giggled, to his own mortification. He was going to blame it on the champagne.

When the song ended and Lucius Malfoy took a step back, he did not let go of Harry's hand right away. "Thank you for a delightful dance. I do hope we can do this again soon."

Harry blushed and said non-committally, "At this rate, the next ball can't be far away."

"And I for one shall look forward to it." Malfoy smiled in a way that Harry thought would probably be described as roguish by some simpering woman.

Thankfully, he wasn't one. "All right," he merely said. He wasn't sure what he was agreeing to, but before he had a chance to work it out, Malfoy had squeezed his hand warmly for a long moment, then turned and was gone.

The rest of the evening was extraordinarily dull, Harry thought. Boredom was the only explanation for his bothering to remember the scent and feel of Lucius Malfoy as if he'd left mere moments earlier. He looked down at his hand and flexed it; it still felt warm.

* * *

Harry had plenty of time - six full weeks, in fact - to completely forget the exact scent of Lucius Malfoy's Oriental cologne, or how it had felt to be held in the man's arms while his deep, perpetually amused, voice blew shivers across his cheek. Yes, plenty of time. So it was more than a little disconcerting that he found he was unable to do so.

When the next invitation arrived - this time, the occasion was some Educational Fund or other - Harry was sorely tempted to tear the crisp parchment into shreds and hide at home until he was quite back to normal. Because it certainly was _not_ normal to be thinking about Lucius Malfoy's breath on his skin all day long.

He tried to tell himself that it was a lack of human contact, and made an effort to spend more time with his friends. When that made no difference, he began to look at people of either gender more closely, attempting to consider them as potential romantic interests, but found he completely lacked interest in approaching anyone. The fact remained that no one had ever lingered in his senses the way Lucius Malfoy was doing, and Harry, at 20 years of age, was just inexperienced enough to feel overwhelmed by it.

When he did at last return his acceptance to the Ministry, Harry told himself firmly it was to keep up appearances. He told himself the same thing when he donned his new and very expensive dress robes, a silver-grey vest - which made Hermione and Ginny 'ooh' and 'aah' and Ron snicker, and even a matching cravat, before apparating to the Ministry building.

Once inside the ballroom, Harry made a point of mingling and not looking at, let alone _for_ , anyone in particular. Nevertheless, he had been there for less than ten minutes when he sighted Lucius Malfoy across the room. His breath caught in his throat - Malfoy was dressed entirely in black, save for a deep blue shirt and silver jewellery and accents, and looked like a prince. For a brief moment, Harry had the very un-Gryffindor impulse to run away, but the ridiculous Cinderella parallel, even if it was only in his own head, kept him where he was.

Besides - he had already been spotted; Lucius Malfoy's eyes met and held Harry's, even while he continued his conversation with one of the Ministry people.

Someone called Harry's name, and a moment later, Neville and Ginny were at his side, chattering about this and that. Well… Harry was fairly certain they were talking about _something_ in particular, but he didn't hear a word of it. He smiled and nodded occasionally, pretending to participate in the conversation, but it was less than a minute before he looked back in Malfoy's direction, certain the man would by then have turned back to his companion, for politeness' sake if nothing else. Instead, he found the silvery gaze moving slowly up and down his body. Then, as if in approval, Malfoy raised his glass ever so slightly and smirked.

Harry's stomach chose that moment to remember how to dance a polka.

"You all right, Harry?" Neville asked solicitously. "You look a bit flushed."

"I'm fine," Harry croaked. "I… sorry, I just have to go… somewhere."

Neville nodded in understanding. "Down the front hall, second door to the right," he said.

"Eh… what?" Harry asked, doing his best to pretend a searchlight wasn't being passed over him from across the room.

"The loo," Neville clarified in a discreet whisper.

Ginny giggled. "What on earth's the matter with you, Harry? You look as if you've seen a…" Her eyes followed the direction of Harry's gaze. "Malfoy," she said blandly. Sipping at her wine, she murmured, "Well, I suppose he has every right to be here."

"Yes. He does," Harry said a little too sharply, sighing when Ginny blinked at him in confusion. "I'm sorry, I just need to get some air, okay?" Not waiting for an answer, he left his friends and rapidly made his way to the balcony at the far side of the room, where he barely avoided colliding with Lucius Malfoy.

"You're not leaving already, Mr Potter? We've not even said 'hello' yet." He smiled pleasantly. "And what's more - I have not yet had the opportunity to compliment you on your stunning choice of attire."

Harry forced a nervous smile. "Hello. And thanks."

Lucius Malfoy frowned. "Forgive me for saying so, but you look a little peaky."

"I was about to get some air," Harry hurried to explain. "I'm sure I'll see you again later." He made to hurry away, but his path was blocked by Malfoy's once again very nice smelling presence. Harry barely suppressed a groan, certain he was going mad.

"I really don't think I should leave you to your own devices, Mr Potter," the man said reasonably. "Not as flustered as you are." Malfoy took his arm - which sent a warm thrill up Harry's spine - and steered him through the billowing blue velvet drapes and out into the night air. "Imagine the headlines if the saviour of the Wizarding World was found in a dead faint on a balcony, all by himself!" Harry snorted despite his nerves. "Idle tongues would wag. There'd be speculation about leftover villains lurking in the wings to catch you unawares." With a discreet wave of his hand, Lucius cast a privacy charm on the small terrace.

Harry smiled wistfully. "Well, I do seem to be rubbing shoulders with a former death eater at every Ministry ball." He attempted to pull his arm from Malfoy's grasp inconspicuously.

Malfoy took pity and removed his hand. He considered Harry for a full minute, then appeared to come to some kind of decision. "If that should prove to be a bother, Mr Potter, I might be agreeable to rubbing something else."

Harry stared up at him with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open, certain he hadn't heard that right. But when Malfoy kept standing there, smiling serenely and not saying anything else, the words fully sank in. "This might sound stupid, but… just to clarify…" He blushed. "Are you flirting with me?"

Lucius Malfoy chuckled. "If you need to ask, Mr Potter, I am not doing it right."

"That doesn't answer the question," Harry protested.

"Doesn't it?" Malfoy smirked. "Then let me answer your question with one of my own - would you like me to flirt with you?"

Harry gulped, nerves threatening to get the better of him. "So, you don't care either way yourself?"

Lucius snickered. "What I mean is merely this: I am not in the habit of forcing my attentions on anyone. So if it should be distasteful to you, I will attempt to refrain from flirting with you."

Harry frowned, feeling rather deflated. "You might as well _refrain_ , considering you're making it sound like some kind of chore." He pouted when Lucius laughed at that.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake. Harry…" Lucius looked pleased when Harry shivered noticeably at the use of his first name. "If you preferred a more direct approach, without the social niceties, you had but to say so." He moved into Harry's personal space, took his face in his hands, and kissed him.

It took Harry a moment to realise he wasn't subject to one of his recent daydreams, but once he did, his arms flew around Lucius' waist and his lips parted to the gentle pressure. He moaned into the kiss, and Lucius - encouraged and clearly pleased - deepened it. By the time Lucius' tongue had made its first tender foray, Harry was wedged between Lucius and the cool wall of the balcony, a string of ivy snagging lightly and without his notice at his hair.

Lucius' body was warm against him, comforting and arousing at once, and Harry's hands held tightly to his broad back beneath his cloak, fingers clenching in blue silk. He whimpered when the man's lips disconnected from his own.

"Is my intention clearer now?" Lucius' smiling mouth brushed over a flushed cheek, then placed tiny kisses along Harry's cheekbone.

"Hmm…" Harry sighed. His eyelids were fluttering.

Lucius' voice was far from steady. "I should have considered that you were once a Gryffindor. All my attempts at subtlety…" A gentle nibble at the edge of Harry's jaw and a soft gasp in response. "...wasted."

"I wouldn't say that," Harry disagreed, his hands sliding up Lucius' back until they rested on his shoulder blades, pressing himself closer to the man's warmth in the process.

"Oh?" Lucius kissed along the rim of Harry's ear, smiling when Harry groaned and bucked against him. "So you've thought about me, once or twice, between our encounters?"

Harry laughed huskily. "Once or twice a minute." A very satisfied hum, and something that sounded like 'gooooood' breathed across his ear, made him shiver.

"Please, keep doing that," Harry pleaded.

"What do you want me to do, Harry?" Lucius smirked, nudging Harry's earlobe with his nose, before breathing softly across his ear again.

"That," Harry sighed. "Whisper to me." He dug his fingers hard into Lucius' back, tilting his hips and letting him feel how he was affecting him.

Lucius moaned softly. His right hand cupped Harry's nape while the left curved around his waist. "Would you like to hear how I arranged that first dance with you?"

Harry smiled, rubbing his cheek against Lucius'. "You did?"

"I've been watching you, Harry. For a long time," Lucius murmured. "I've been quite desperate to hold you in my arms." He kissed the soft flesh of Harry's earlobe, his fingers sliding up into Harry's hair when he felt him shiver. "To touch you… to hear your voice grow breathy…" A kiss to Harry's neck. "…and taste your skin."

Moaning, Harry clutched hard at Lucius' back, rocking his hips against him and finding him as hard as he was himself. "Oh god," he whispered.

By Lucius' deep groan, he agreed. "Spying was easy work," he said huskily. "Compared to leaving you after that first dance." Lucius ran his tongue up the side of Harry's neck, then tormented the soft skin of his earlobe. "I desperately wanted to kiss you." He took the flesh between his teeth, not quite biting down, then released it. "I wanted to ravish you right there."

"Lucius!" Harry gasped.

"I wanted to make you mine. In front of all those stuffy, soul-less officials."

With a groan, Harry caught Lucius' lips and kissed him hungrily. He opened his mouth and yielded to each stroke of Lucius' tongue, responded to each flicker of it against the roof of his mouth, his teeth, his gums. When Lucius' hand rested with gentle pressure at the top of Harry's buttocks, he clutched fistfuls of Lucius' shirt in his hands and tugged.

Lucius gasped, insinuating his right leg between Harry's thighs and pushing upwards gently. His forward momentum allowed Harry's hands to slip under the smooth silk.

Harry's mouth formed a perfect 'O' when his fingers reached warm, bare flesh just as he bore down on the strong thigh.

"Harry," Lucius groaned his name, his hand sliding down to cup a firm cheek and squeeze. Harry was trembling and gasping warm breath over Lucius' ear, and Lucius bent his head and kissed his neck. "Rub against me." Harry undulated his hips gently, the pressure against him from underneath nearly unbearably arousing. "Use me, Harry." Lucius coaxed, biting Harry's neck lightly, then kissing the underside of his raised chin. "Use me for your own pleasure."

"Aah!" Harry squeezed the hard thigh between his own just as it pushed upwards again. "Oh god. So close…" His fingernails dug into Lucius' back, the idea that they would leave marks nearly pushing him over the edge.

Lucius seemed to be in a similar state. His voice was little more than a husky growl. "This is how I've been wanting you, Harry - needing me to make you come, tearing at my very skin to show me how much you need me." His right hand released the back of Harry's head and, together with the left, slid under Harry's arse to pull him up along his own thigh.

Harry groaned. "I do need you." His nails were digging deep, and his whole body was trembling, and he came harder than he'd ever come before. Wet warmth spread around his groin while Lucius held him suspended, burying his face in the crook of Harry's neck and purring words Harry couldn't make out over the rushing in his ears.

When Harry came back to his senses - filled as they were with Lucius and sex and cool night air - he released the abused back, slipped slowly down the thigh supporting him still, and wrapped his arms around Lucius' waist.

Lucius held him tight, smiling when Harry moaned softly on feeling him hard and twitching against his own oversensitive groin. He closed his eyes and gasped when a hand insinuated itself between them and squeezed. "Come home with me," he murmured, his moist lips on Harry's cheek. "My carriage is waiting outside. We can be there in less than thirty minutes."

"Can you wait that long?" Harry tempted, squeezing harder.

"I've waited five years, Harry." Lucius closed his eyes and bit his lip.

Harry gasped, his hand stilling. "When did it start?"

"The moment you handed me that Prophecy, and I saw the resolve and courage in your eyes." Lucius was breathing hard. "I knew then that I would do anything to make you mine. To, one day, make you… like me."

There was an aborted little sob from Harry. Determined, he fumbled with the fastenings of Lucius' trousers and then his hand was inside, closing around hot flesh and stroking hard. And Lucius could do nothing but whimper while Harry brought him to a dizzying climax within seconds, then hum delightedly while the wet hand squeezed the last remaining quivers from his body.

Harry nuzzled against his neck. "As soon as you've recovered…"

"Yes?" Lucius panted.

"Take me home with you."

"Harry," Lucius sighed and held him close, not planning to ever let him go again.

 

THE END


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